


Iron, silk, boredom and... Michael Jordan

by Pazzaalcubo



Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm very nervous, Love/Hate, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Mystic Falls (Vampire Diaries), Vampire Diaries References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pazzaalcubo/pseuds/Pazzaalcubo
Summary: Everyday life is boring.Better to complicate things.Klaus and Damon are the best complications.Essentially a whole and nothing.  It's the first time I've published something, so just an explosive experiment... I hope it ends well.
Relationships: Elena Gilbert & Damon Salvatore, Klaus Mikaelson/Damon Salvatore
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Iron, silk, boredom and... Michael Jordan

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm brand new here, let's start by saying I don't own The Vampire Diaries, otherwise it wouldn't be the amazing series it is. Staying on the tvd theme, I always thought that if Klaus had chosen to take Damon with him, rather than Stefan, things would have turned out very differently. Cabbage! In my opinion the two would have made a hellish couple. Initially I thought of them more as simple "business partners" but then, suddenly, strange ideas came to my mind, because, let's face it, in Damon and Klaus there is nothing even remotely simple. I don't know where Does "this" settle in the series, around the fourth season? Oh well, it doesn't matter, however certain things may not match or have been adapted. Don't be too strict, it's a first attempt XD.  
> To enjoy! (I hope)

There is, perhaps, something reassuring in the routine or, at least, so Klaus thinks, not having enemies who try to jump your throat as soon as you step outside the house, however, would be a good start. 

Yet... he is convinced that there is something reassuring in the routine, getting up in the morning, having a few drinks, directly from the carotid artery of some seductive girl, if possible, savoring the taste of a real drink on the tongue, ranting against hybrids demanding something that has never served him and that, probably, will never serve him, and then allows the perpetual movement of the universe to filter into an indistinct cacophony, letting go century after century, getting lost in the continuous flow of time that never stops... 

Okay, maybe, there is nothing reassuring about routine.

For a moment, a single heartbreaking moment, he evaluates the idea of extracting the dagger from his brother's flesh, Elijah has often forgiven him, could he do it again? But the idea escapes as quickly as it came, while Niklaus lazily drags a finger on the edge of the glass, now empty, a bit like he feels and, if there is one thing that the hybrid hates with all his destructive force of one's soul, and damn it if there is, murderous fathers and murdered mothers aside, surely it's boredom.

It is not that he does not know how to get fun, you do not live more than a thousand years if you are not able to do so, how much more the fact that today he feels the need to do something different, not striking, although he may not be, actually, striking, Elijah would call it tragic, excessive, but in Klaus' humble opinion it's just, beautifully theatrical, maybe in a bit macabre way, but who doesn't appreciate some healthy Black Humor?

And just as he mulls over this last sentence, his elbow resting on the dark wooden table, his cheek against his knuckles, a reddish blond curl that falls like a spring on his eyebrow, his disturbances are interrupted by one of his hybrids «Klaus» calls him back... Jordan, Jason, Michael? It's always confusing when it comes to the Jordans and the Michaels, who knows why… it's not that there is much consonance.

Anyway... he grunts, just to make it clear that he is listening, the boy seems to quickly understand that this is one of his days "not": "don't look at me" "don't talk to me" "don't touch me" "or I'll take your head off", he says. I step back, although Klaus is still simply sitting, following the slight ripples of the plaster on the white wall behind the shoulder of his interlocutor, who insists on intercepting his gaze, which smells of storm. These hybrids... they pretend to rebel out of pride but the truth is that they do it only out of fear, fear of him, of a common cause, of a thought, of a bit of everything.

So Michael Jordan, he finally understood why he is confusing, continues with a convulsive brown look, mumbles a bit and Klaus does him the favor of paying him a bit of attention, arching a clear eyebrow, fixing him with a blue and ferrous eye cut, the young man stops hesitating and, in cocoa-colored tufts scattered over his head, which seem more shocked than he, spits out only one sentence «he did it again» finally, the tone of part of reluctant adoration returns, that gets stuck in the throat, suffocated, partly charged with awe, but also mottled with that foolish scent of hatred swallowed like poison.

But there is really no time to dwell on the voice, actually, because the important thing is the content of the message, Klaus leans forward, then, unexpectedly, surprisingly, his shoulders wincing in an amused laugh, twists his lips in a mischievous grin, clear that as you go desperately looking for a distraction this comes up with the promising name of Damon Salvatore, Black Humor personified.

The young hybrid's hollow, shallow eyes open wide in fear and it seems his jaw is about to drop to the floor, the shock projects itself with such artistic precision on him that Klaus imagines that Michael Jordan thinks his creator has gone completely mad, that then... did he really believe that, somewhere in the brain of the original, there was still even a fragment of the glass of a mirror with the imprinted image of a semblance of sanity? Maybe he's starting to like him.

Lately the eldest of the Salvatore brothers seems to be at least as bored as he is, he is not really challenging Klaus, probably his reaction does not even interest him, he is just having fun leaving rooms of blood and heads, many heads in his ways, in a game which he always wins and, yes, in another situation this would have infuriated Klaus, beyond belief, but today is a day "not" so he also finds it funny, theatrical.

He joins his hands, intertwining his fingers, puts his chin on them «and you can manage to bring him here?» He asks it quite resigned, he tried to get it there before, but no matter how many hybrids you send, no one comes back or, if someone comes back, it's like a lifeless body without a head, loaded on the shoulder by a companion of his.

Damon Salvatore is strong, this obviously Klaus recognizes, very strong, considering that he is quite young among vampires, he is not even two hundred years old, but he has seen him defeat, in cunning, but also in brute strength, much more specimens elderly, experienced, trained, that infinite arrogance is not totally unjustified and it also amply explains Michael Jordan's bewildered gaze who is tightening in on himself as if he had just asked him to dance the Hola on the table.

Klaus slaps his fingers on the cheek, letting go a sigh, then smiles, bright again, all white teeth and sharp canines «but apparently it won't be necessary» announces, admitting internally that he is surprised «you must be really bored, with the doppelgänger» hesitates a little, entertaining herself «I rectify, she herself is terribly tedious»

So saying he gets up from his chair, leaving the room as if the world were a big stage and he the main actor, he goes into the living room, looks around, there is no one in immediate sight, except the person to whom he addresses his attention, the young, pleasant one, for once, they say, distraction.

Oh, those eyes, Klaus is pretty certain that many women, and men maybe, have happily drowned in those irises of torment, of a blue so intense and sharp that if hell existed and it could freeze, it would look just like that, of those shades impossible to replicate, which break, like glass, and cut, like a blade, those gazes that say and smile and hide, those eternal gazes of solitude, which smell of iridescent stars. 

The dark shirt is wrinkled on his forearms, probably from the position, Damon sits on that dark sofa, the one in front of the fireplace, the shading reflections of the chandelier playing on his translucent skin, the way a cold-blooded creature would sit on a rock, enjoying the sun's rays.

Push your chin out a little, the adult and centennial incarnation of a spoiled child «do you stop staring at me?» Mocks him, quite indifferent, however, he has a bottle of Scotch in his pale hands and Klaus doesn't even want to wonder how he found it.

He remains standing, but he is not tense, he shrugs briefly, almost agreeing with himself and slides into the chair, he is positioned obliquely so it is not difficult for him to observe the right profile of the intruder, despite having remained silent, Klaus is no longer so bored, he has something to analyze, study, observe, as when he chooses a subject for his paintings, Damon Salvatore is art that, unfortunately, walks, going around the world unattended.

He decides to answer, still taken by his contemplation «You sneak into my house, as if you were the owner, settle on my sofa, steal my alcohol and then complain because I stare at you» he asks, more mocking than indignant, they both know he doesn't really care, or Damon would be dead by now, his skin no longer white, his figure carved in granite but gray and cracked with time.

He wrinkles his nose, almost offended «it's a pretty detailed account of what has happened so far, I'd say» he says resentfully and Klaus imagines that this is probably a "not" day for Damon too, but Klaus doesn't pierce the flesh of his chest, does not bruise his ribcage, contracting his fingers inside the warm body, feeling the blood pressure, and extracts the warm heart muscle only because his "not" day has improved thanks to Damon (and why not wants to dirty his sofa).

He just shoots a well-aimed glance, while in his mind scenarios like this and even worse are stroked «I have always been good at summing up, even if many don't believe it» crosses his legs sloppily, distracted «for example» he lingers, approaching a finger to the hot lips «tell me why you are here, or...»

Damon looks at him briefly, eyes devouring every inch of his image, unimpressed «well» he says, almost wearily, setting the bottle on the floor, beside his feet, with a clink «I don't know exactly why I'm here either» he replies imprinting his white palms on his dark jeans «so I'll go with the standard stuff» he clears his throat, looking solemn «leave Mystic Falls, let us live our happily ever after, I'm ready to risk my my life to talk to you because I love Elena, for her I would do anything, blah, blah, blah, miserable and unhappy life blah, blah, blah, sacrifice, selflessness, I will become a better man blah, blah, blah...» sweeps away the rest of the sentence with an angry gesture of the hand, without ending that parody of himself «but how can you bear us?» He seems to have had a sudden illumination on the dirge that for years they have been feeding every monster in the city.

Klaus looks at him again «wow» he sighs, the fun written all over his face «what could she have done to you that she hasn't done to you before, to reduce you like this?» he tries not to seem too curious, he has always had a weakness for gossip, they are one of those few certainties that change over the years, but never completely fade.

Damon looks at him, thinning his eyes for a moment, a lock slips across his forehead like ink, then shrugs again «I may not know why I'm here, but certainly not to confess, otherwise I would have gone to my brother» she twists her full lips, at the very thought of having a heart to heart with Stefan, the sole of her shoe hits the floor «and then are you or aren't you a fan of the couple Stefan and Elena, saviors of the world?»

Klaus raises his eyes to the ceiling, a feral smile tugs at his lips, hollowing his cheeks into two perfect dimples «I can't say otherwise» he admits, briefly raising his cobalt eyes towards the ceiling «however this brings us back to the initial "or"» he remembers, watching Damon frown, frowning.

The young vampire resumes looking at him with curiosity «yes» it's worth it, still hesitant «but you never said "or" what, you know me right? I need more than a few veiled threats» they watch each other carefully, assessing themselves for a moment, then Damon raises his eyebrows, which reach the hairline, suggestive, or perhaps impatient.

The hybrid lets a second of silence slip between them, a moment of eternal gazes, then opens his warm lips, Damon follows that movement with too much concentration, Klaus's eyes sparkle with gray «I was about to say, Damon» he lingers, testing the name on the tongue, brandishing it as if it were a weapon «which otherwise you'll have to provide me with at least a decent distraction» he affirms, with apparent calm.

The calm before the storm, in fact, because, heralded only by the rippling air, the second after he is sitting exactly next to the vampire, who does not seem surprised at all, while he turns his torso slightly towards him, Klaus has the forearm pressed on the back of the sofa and the chin resting on one hand, he is grinning, childish.

Damon purses his lips, long, dark lashes flutter over his cheekbones, and for a moment he feigns meekly confused «what did you have in mind?» He asks, asking to pick up the previously abandoned bottle between his fingers, but it is, in fact, only a moment because the next their lips are busy, there is no more time for comments and digs, while the mouths collide, joining, it's not a slow kiss, it's all passion teeth, gasps and sighs, while Klaus squeezes the raven locks between his fingers, maybe he pulls a little too much, but Damon stays with his feet planted in the ground, swallowing the panting breaths of both.

Klaus's tongue melts into Damon's, red-hot with lust, it goes beyond the fleeting movements of those strips of hot skin that touch, devour each other, clench those pink and so soft lips between his teeth, he doesn't know when to they are up, when they started to move, but at one point he feels the soft shattering of the glass and barely registers the fact that they must have hit the damn Scotch bottle.

He loosens his grip on Damon's head slightly, briefly moving his face away to look at the dirty ground, but the spell doesn't break because his eyes are immediately drawn back to the battered mouth of the younger vampire, swollen with warm kisses, the greatest Savior briefly shrugs his shoulders mutters a «so sucked» stunted, a little confused, like his gaze which is liquid and thick, to which Klaus retorts «you had drunk most of it» quite amused, Damon sticks out his lower lip, ready to be heard, curling him up a bit and Klaus feels like kissing him again, so he just does, again, he's getting a little carried away, but his mind is a placid, murky pool of emotions right now.


End file.
